


Bite : Reylo Vampire AU

by malakai



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bloodletting, Bloodplay, DYAD, Dark Rey, Dyad Vampires, F/M, Fullblooded Kylo, Halfbreed Rey, King kink, Mated Vampires, Mates, Medieval AU, Royalty, Vampire King, Vampire Sex, Vampires are my favorite, Virgin Rey, Witcher Vampires, Witcher-realm, listen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malakai/pseuds/malakai
Summary: Kill the King, lift the curse.Desperate to overcome an lifelong ailment, Rey believes if she murders the king, her curse will be lifted.or in which Rey sneaks into the king's bedroom, realizing they're more alike than not.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 66
Kudos: 183





	1. Kingslayer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick one shot I wrote for a saucy NSFW commission by Stavrogin80! She is sooo incredibly talented, bringing to life vampire AUs like this!

"You've come here to kill me, haven't you?"

Rey froze, clutching the jeweled dagger with her fists. The plush carpet beneath her bare feet had absorbed all sound of her advancement, and yet, somehow, she still alerted him. 

_Kill the King, lift the curse._

Straight ahead sat the sprawling four-poster bed. The white sheets were mussed, tracing the King's impressive figure in silk and shadow play. From where he propped himself up, she could see his torso, bare and threaded with muscle. His hair, a black flame of curls, and eyes glittering in the dark.

His eyes... so much like hers.

Rey couldn't look away, even if her life depended on it. But she had come here with a purpose. To kill the king was to lift the curse. She imagined herself leaping onto the bed and burying the knife somewhere along his broad chest. _Kill the King._ She imagined the wash of relief when her insides no longer felt the sharp stabbings of hunger; when she could step out into the sunshine and not become sick and disoriented; when morsels of the natural variety sated her and not this burden of carnal need. _Lift the curse._

Rey did no such things. Instead, she lowered the dagger and the king rose. The sheets slipped away as he moved from the bedside and around, wearing nothing but knickers and a scowl. Undeterred by the small weapon in her hand, ignorant to Rey's own natural abilities if she could free herself from this trance, he closed in until they were nearly touching chests. He was so much larger up close, she realized. Even before she entered the room, she knew the dagger was going to provide a miracle against him, or it was going to cost her her life. As it was, she was prepared for either. She was surprised she even got this far from a bastard child to the unassuming chambermaid, to _attempted_ king-slayer. She was nothing; she was a nobody.

 _And she was cursed_.

He gently took her by the wrist, removing the dagger from her grasp. What little light the dead of the night offered painted his broad shoulders in moonlight, silvered the strands of his dark hair. But it was his eyes she couldn't look away from. His gaze traced her face, lingering on her mouth before returning to her stare.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" 

Rey blinked, uncertain of how to answer such a question.

"For how long?" He sat the dagger aside.

"My whole life," when she spoke, her voice was small and fragile, but she finally took a step back, then another, and another until she bumped into a heavy dresser. "I've been starving my entire life." It seemed to trivial now, admitting her shortcomings, how starved and crazed she was for it. That much was true. It was only a matter of time before she did something terrible when she lost control of her hunger and this innate need she couldn't readily pinpoint, and then they'd string her up at the gallows and let the crows feast on her flesh after they snapped her neck.

"And you think killing me will sate your hunger?" he said softly, a bedroom whisper that sent shivers cascading down her spine. 

Rey swallowed thickly, trying to shake free of this strange mood. She wasn't entirely sure what would solve her problem, but she was willing to try anything. Even treason.

"I'm cursed," she gritted.

"Curse?" he reached for the ties of her cloak, helping himself to its opening, and revealing her collar bones and chest to the cold air. "No, you were not cursed." He traced her clavicle with a fingertip, drawing a line from shoulder to her jaw then brushed her pulse with his thumb. "You were sired. _Born_ , not made."

The cold air-kissed her shuddering chest as he pushed the cloak away, letting its weight slide from her shoulders onto the floor. In her desperate haste, she had arrived in less than modest clothing. Indeed not practical king-slaying attire, but she hadn't anticipated the King waking and certainly _none of this_. Her bright corset cinched tightly around her slender waist gathered and lifted her bust generously, but now he could see just how nervous she was by her riven breath. Her short skirt revealed her bare legs and feet, a clandestine endeavor made possible inside a stone fortress. In short, she had climbed her way in, avoiding the guards entirely.

"You haven't been taken before," he assessed, still low and gentle with his touches and words, not the assuming coarse and brutal parlance of a usurper king. "Nor have you taken yourself. Why?"

Rey shook her head, uncomfortable with not only the proximity of him but also how her treacherous body responded to it as if it knew something she didn't. That dark need was rearing ahead, twisting and writhing into a tight coil. She was a serpent ready to strike. 

"You have no idea what you are, do you?"

It was now or never. Swipe the blade and kill the King or remain cursed. She'd come here for a reason. How can few words and caresses dismantle her so?

Kill the King, lift the curse. Kill the King, lift the...

The glint of her own dagger snared her attention as he brought the very tip against his pectoral. The flesh resisted only for a moment before a bead of blood bloomed and trickled down his chest. She followed it with her eyes, unable to look away, to think of anything but running her tongue up his torso and sealing the wound with a kiss. 

Rey clapped a hand over her throbbing mouth, squeezing her eyes shut, and focused on breathing. The heady tang assaulted her lungs until her legs began to shake. The king stepped forward, gathering her up in his arms and hoisting her atop the oak dresser. He peeled her hand from her face. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, keeping her lips pinched tightly. This had all gone horribly wrong. Who was she to believe she could kill a king with her bare hands? She'd never killed anyone before. And in her weakened state? Having never eaten a proper meal, what strength did she have facing such a brute?

But when Rey looked up, she hadn't anticipated seeing the white tips of sharp teeth so much like hers. His eyes, dark and predatory. A reflection of her own.

Was it possible?

Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen the King outside of his castle. In fact, this was the first time laying eyes on him aside from portraits hanging in the taverns and statues erected around the city. 

_Kill the King..._ someone knew what he was... Someone also knew what she was.

"Whoever sent you did not plan on you surviving." The soft rumble of his voice had every instinct in Rey sitting up straight. "This is not a curse; it is a _gift._ A gift you've been neglecting." He reached up to run his fingers through her dark hair, wrapping around his fist and drawing her head back to expose her neck. "What is your name?"

Heat shot down her spine, pooling between her legs, but she managed to tell him shakily. If the King weren't standing between her knees, she would have pressed them together.

He bent his head, brushing his lips to her neck with the barest of touches, "I think you're hungry, Rey. I can smell it on you. You're practically begging for it." He pressed his lips to her throat, inhaling deeply until his shoulders shook with shivers and his skin prickled. "I want to be your first."

What he could mean by that was quickly answered when he stepped back and guided her to the rivulet of blood. She leaned forward tentatively, entirely unsure and insecure. With the tip of her tongue, she lapped up a small portion.

It was sweet and warm-- _holy gods, delicious--_ and filled her body with a fuzzy heat she'd never known. Encouraged by her body's response, she flattened her tongue against it and licked wantonly. Somehow the more she took, the better he tasted, growing more reckless with each pass as she suckled and moaned against his skin. She drank until the room swam, and she wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into his flesh.

His fingers were working through her hair, encouraging her to take as much as she needed. 

At last, when he stepped away to look at her, he took in her swollen lips now covered in his blood. She could smell his desire as easily as she could see it straining in his pants.

"I want a better look at you. And you want a better look, I think, at me."

Did she? She was frozen on the edge of the dresser, but already, her inner thighs were soaked. She licked her lips clean, finding herself no longer reluctant to show her elongated teeth now throbbing in tandem with her own arousal. She managed a nod, breathing hard and lowering her eyes to his breeches as he began to unfasten them. He pushed the fabric away, freeing an impressive length that had her toes curling, and stepped forward again.

He drew her legs up, allowing only the tip to brush against the crotch of her panties. "You're wet," he rasped. Rey reached down between them, pulling them aside, and tilted her hips. 

The tip of him entered her before he paused. "Have you...?"

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold herself up. She hoped he couldn't feel her tremble. The trivial difference between king and servant didn't matter. Not right now. What mattered and what she focused on was the roaring in her head and her blood. _The taste of him._ It consumed all logic and reason. This was pure instinct, and it was telling her to take and be taken.

He pushed further in, little by little, her willing body somewhat unyielding. There was a sharp prick that dulled quickly, her strange body using the pain to stoke pleasure. It ate at her, bite by bite, and she _let_ it burrow deeper, coiling in the pit of her being like a snake waiting to strike. By the sheer fill of him alone pushed her up to the very edge. A staggering moan slipped between her clenched teeth. She wanted to run to stay. To tear him apart and drain him dry.

"It's been so long," he groaned.

In a punctuated thrust, he fully seated himself inside her, drawing a collective gasp.

She winced, baring her teeth in pain or pleasure, it was hard to decide, and when she opened her eyes, the king crushed his lips to hers.

It was a delicate and careful tangle of tongue and teeth, and she managed to run her tongue up the sensitive length of a single fang before deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. A shudder shot through him, and deep inside, she felt his cock thicken. He withdrew wholly before sinking back into her, slow and tortuous. As he worked his hips, rubbing her in all the right places, places she never knew existed, he found the corner of her mouth, her jawline, trailing closer to her neck.

"I want you," he whispered against her skin. "I want to taste you, Rey."

She moaned in response, relishing every bit of friction he offered her before sinking his fangs into her neck.

* * *


	2. The King is Coming

"Get up!"

Rey woke gasping and sweating the moment a shouting servant came bursting through her bedroom door. The lingering sensations of her dream remained while the sights and sounds washed away as consciousness defined. 

While her mind grappled with reality, Imogen rushed across the room towards the shuttered windows where the last dregs of sunset sank beyond the horizon. The wash of heat continued to gently rock through Rey. Her fingers dug into the bedding, drawing it into fists as she pressed her knees together and bit down to stifle any noise. 

Imogen braved a peek through the shutters. "The King is coming," her friend breathed. 

The King? 

_You have no idea what you are, do you?_

She could still recall every sensation. The tingle across her scalp when he pulled her hair back. How he tasted and felt against her lips. The feel and _fill_ of him between her legs, buried in her neck. 

Loosening a quivering breath as the last waves of her nocturnal emission passed, Rey hoped her face betrayed little and words even less as she rasped, "Why is the King coming?" The servant quarters were located on the palace's rear-grounds, just beyond the gardens. It was out of sight and thus out of mind. Since Rey began working here, the King rarely made it passed the hedge maze. Moreover, why was _she_ coming from such a dream? With the _King_ , of all people?

"I heard something about a routine search," Imogen went on, "Maybe there's been an attempt on his life?"

Rey closed her eyes, taking slow measured breaths even while her stomach flipped. Only when her heart steadied and her loins stopped throbbing did her thoughts wander. This was not happening. Having _just_ awoken, reality felt detached. Her head was still in a fog. Had word gotten out? Had the priest betrayed her? Once she had her bearing, she glanced towards the trunk which housed all her personal belongings. Everything narrowed down to what lay inside.

"It was _just_ a dream," she whispered to herself. A horrible, untimely dream. 

* * *

Rey, Imogen, and the rest of King's servants stepped out into a chilly evening. Dressed in their threadbare sleeping gowns, the women huddled close for warmth and waited quietly. The stable hands were present. The blacksmiths, even the gardeners were roused awake and outside. There were guesses on what could possibly lure the King to this forgotten corner. This hadn't been the first time his livelihood was threatened if the rumors were true---which they weren't, Rey assured herself. Nor would it be the last attempt. Kings fell, usurpers rose. However, Rey was still a bundle of nerves even as she assured herself there was no need, that the coincidence of her dream and this evening's circumstances were just that--a _coincidence._ Nothing would come of it. Nothing had. A few exchanges made in secrecy held no consequence. No proof.

_Still,_ it did little to her frenetic heart nor did it lessen the flush stealing across her cheeks 

Thankfully they couldn't read minds even if it felt it to be clear on her face.

Dressed in their black and red livery, the throng of guards split up, taking each quarter individually while the servants watched anxiously. There was no sign of the King. Just the royal guards here to rummage through their things on suspicion alone and they were rough and careless with their pawing and rifling. Toppling dressers, flipping thin mattresses, tearing down curtains. They even went as far as to climb upon the thatched roofs for hidden compartments. Several minutes went by. The whispering worsened and the night grew colder. While there were plentiful means of distraction, Rey couldn't look away from the opened doorway of their dwelling and the guard moving beyond it. How thorough would they be in their search?

Imogen shivered, stepping closer to Rey for warmth. Her hands were icy no matter how often Rey rubbed blood back into her fingers. 

And then it was over. The search abruptly ended when her respective guard emerged with her personal trunk in his arms. Rey's blood went cold and her stomach dropped along with the trunk as he tossed the thing on the ground like it was garbage, calling for his captain who stepped out of a different quarter in glossy black armor indicative to his position. Neither spoke as the guard kicked the trunk open, spilling the contents across the ground. Her favorite sash fell out, baubles she'd collected in her short lifetime, her mother's hairbrush, she suspected, and timeworn books. None of these items were incriminating, except the narrow bundle wrapped within the pale pink sash. When the guard bent down, scooping it up, Rey's heart thundered. He held it up by the cloth, allowing the fabric to unravel until, at last, the jeweled dagger fell out. 

The Captain of the Guard procured a parchment hidden within the folds of his cloak. He unfolded it, revealing a sketch which he compared to the dagger. He nodded, murmuring something to the other guard before turning away. 

He turned to face the meager crowd, silent now that something tangible had been found. His gaze raked across Imogen before settling on Rey.

"Who lives in these quarters?" he asked. 

"We do." Rey held his stare. 

_This isn't happening._ Rey knew if she glanced left and right, she'd find herself alone, separated from the herd like a lame faun. That there was no point in resisting. If this King was anything like the one before, he had likely ordered them to cut each worker down until someone squealed. One life--her life-- in exchange for the servants, the smithies, the gardeners. The fact that most of the figurehead's inner-workings were conducted after sundown told her enough of his disposition.

"And this trunk?"

She did this.

She brought this nonsense onto herself and others around her.

Rey lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "It's mine."

Imogen's cold touch pulled away as the guards closed in.

Rey didn't resist, not when they fastened a thick collar around her neck, shackled her ankles and wrists, and shoved at her, her bare feet stuttering to remain upright. She didn't cry out or offer an explanation to the pleading eyes and incredulous gasps that surrounded her.

Something else was at work here. Something she couldn't define. It was unseen and ethereal. Her dream somehow stretching from her mind and into reality itself. It wasn't possible, yet it _was_ happening.

And so she said nothing at all, feigning stunned silence rather than raving like a madwoman.

And held her silence well after the biting shackles had been removed and the heavy iron doors clanged shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it's me again, back with some vampire reylo musings. i decided to flesh this thing out, not by much, mind you. This is for the few who wished for more and, if I'm being honest, I wanted more, too.


	3. The Phantom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is somewhat nonlinear, but it wont continue to be after this chapter.
> 
> I didn't know what kind of vampire I wanted to make our favorite pair, so I took inspiration from the Witcher-verse: vampires with warmth and heartbeats. I didn't follow **all** the rules because whatever, I just I wanna get these two naked.

Ren was not apt to dreaming. His nights were a quiet void, bereft of sound and color until the light of day burned out, and the evening settled. Only then did he rise and rule. King of the Night. Lord of the Shadows. The Black Flame. The Gates of Hell Himself. The ever-revolving register continued to lengthen, but those were just a few to reach his ears. Nonetheless, they were all the same to him and they were all correct―in their own way.

But the fact remained: the King of the Night was dreaming again. Among the many things he'd seen and felt, the moment he buried into her slick heat and tipped her gently over the edge, he snapped awake, gritting his teeth and shaking. The room was empty, of course, yet it felt so real, he still looked around. She _had_ been here; she had done things to _him_.

Without glancing down, he knew he was painfully hard and that his tightly clenched teeth were elongated and sensitive to the touch. Fortunately, the chambermaids knew not to disturb him until called upon, so the worry stopped there.

For a spell, he tried returning to sleep. He could still feel his heartbeat in his cock, and every time he closed his eyes, she was there, running her tongue up his chest, nails scouring his back deliciously. With a low sigh, he sat up and paced the room, pushing his fingers through his hair. The vanity mirror captured his reflection as he passed. Ren paused, turning to face the looking glass and spotting the smallest nick along his pectoral, right above his nipple. 

Distantly, he felt his heart ratcheting in his chest. He watched his reflection touch the small wound in disbelief then released a breath, dragging another through his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves.

_How was this possible?_

What _else_ was possible?

He turned around towards the oak desk, curious and a little frightened if he were honest. The sight of a single drop of blood sitting on the polished surface equally marveled and startled him. It also made him hard all over again. In a single stride, he was across the room, reaching for the little speck of blood. He touched it with a fingertip, bringing it to his lips for a taste. 

His tongue flicked out, pausing.

He gripped the lip of the dresser, the thick wood groaning as his blood roared to claim more. The essence of her settled on his tongue like a brand, caressing him from the _inside._

_Divine. Untouched._

What was _this?_

Again, he wondered how this was _at all_ possible. In his long life, he'd encountered a variety of unnaturalness and nefarious happenings. Perhaps even magical. What he hadn't encountered was a half-breed female defying space and time, wriggling into his mind, and inflicting sensations upon him. 

In short, the Black Flame did not have _wet dreams._

Not only that, but he heard her thoughts as clear as day. A bastard child, she called herself, now a _chambermaid._

Ren knew the ends and out of this castle because he had laid siege to it. He'd murdered the prior monarch and tore the throne from their bloodied, righteous hands and alongside them, tossed out the workers. From the hand to the sweltering kitchen workers, Ren knew their faces. All of them.

Grabbing a blank parchment, he sketched the most vivid detail of his dream: the silver and stone emerald inlaid dagger.

She was here―he just knew it. 

And he was going to find her. 

* * *

"The girl I've heard so much about."

Rey froze mid-step.

She hadn't heard the upper stairwell door open or close and as if on phantom steps, he had descended. How long had he been watching her while she paced her small cell? 

Dripping in black, almost a shadow himself, the King stood motionless even after she acknowledged him. 

She faced him boldly. "You've come to kill me, haven't you?" 

It seemed a fitting response, however bald, given the occasion and it wasn't a horrible coincidence that she was here.

The king stiffened, whether voluntarily or not, and it told Rey everything. This _was_ happening, and whatever it was, it affected him, too. 

A tense stretch of silence filled the damp space.

Something stirred beneath the mound of moldy hay that was supposed to provide Rey bedding. A fat beetle crawled out, marching across the dirt floor. It snagged the King's attention only briefly before he returned his flinty gaze back to Rey.

"Do you still want to kill me?" he asked, but she was too focused on his face to find an answer. Even in her state, she found him beautiful. How her mind captured his likeness so well was beyond her, but it further proved her suspicion. The locks of his dark hair curled at the end, covering his ears. Even his height was befitting: tall, and healthy, with a set of full lips and a sharp jawline. His broad shoulders her hands had passed over, held onto as he rutted into her.

Which only meant―

She didn't mean to glance down at his lap. But it was too late. He caught her and the embarrassed flush that heralded it. A wave of heat shot up her neck as she tore her gaze away and crossed her arms defiantly. The cell space suddenly felt too cramped and her chemise too thin. Her skin prickled, imaging his eyes passing over her flesh like a ghost. Horrible coincidence or not, they had her for treason, and pining over the King was suicide. In fact, there was only one way to treat such an offense. 

Several moments passed in utter silence. She expected some questioning, rather than this uncomfortable tension and the King simply staring at her.

But when the unnatural quiet became too much, she tossed a glare over her shoulder only to find the phantom was gone. 

* * *

This time, Rey heard the door open and close, as well as the tired footfalls trudging down the steps.

A weary man emerged with a posture as poor as his age. He carried a stack of clothes in his thin arms, which he placed upon a stool, then procured a key ring after some rummaging.

He said nothing as he unlocked the cell door, and when he began to struggle opening it, Rey stepped forward, sliding the rusted iron with a heavy knock. 

For a moment she stood there in her cell, with the door wide open, clearly confused.

"Here you go," the man said softly, handing her the stack of clothing. "Follow me."

* * *

The 'stack' turned out to be just a cloak. A thick garb she was ordered to―politely, of course―don as they navigate the chilly castle. While it provided a warm comfort, Rey was still barefooted, hungry, and needless to say, rather put off. 

They walked at an abysmal pace. 

Occasionally he'd glance back to make sure she was still following―as if she had anywhere else to go. She'd seen the frequent presence of the guards, each strategically placed along their ambling route. Some were posted up by the windows. Others watched the doors by the foot of towers and bastions. Each one settled a glance her way, marking her movements. There were a total of three factions, it appeared. A different sigil across their breasts plate, though above their coat of arms was the same dripping red crown. Rey spotted an upraised palm, with slits down each fingertip, and a single one down the center of the palm. Another was a clawed fist, holding a dripping dagger. The last was another a palm, but wrapping through the fingers was a red serpent. 

Rey wasn't aware there were tiers among his guards. If that was what it was. Or tribes. She wasn't sure.

They weren't there to ensure the integrity of the fortress. They were sent to watch her. After several minutes, the stale castle air grew fragrant and balmy. Potted fronds lined the corridor, instead of statues and weapon displays. The plush carpet runner that ran the length of the hall had disappeared, leaving the stones cold and wet. They arrived at a wide set of stairs leading downward, fanning out at the landing where a double shoji door awaited. Columns shored up the carved awning, the signature fronds placed between each ornate pillar.

"This is where I leave you," the man paused. "The Lord has requested you clean yourself up. Beyond the door is a bathhouse."

On that, he shuffled away.

Rey considered this before taking the stairs carefully and sliding the door to the bathhouse open. A thick cloud of steam wafted out, curling and dissipating around her feet. 

She stepped into the balmy room, peeling away her cloak, and marveled. 

There were several baths available. Some lined the walls in secluded alcoves. Others sat like oasis'; a large shallow pool stretched across the center framed by creamy pillars and more alternating plants in between. The arched ceiling was painted beautifully, depicting a night sky full of stars and other celestial bodies, and the air was a mixture of vanilla and orange.

Rey dipped her foot in the closest bath to test the temperature. A delicious chill prickled up her calf, but before she dove in, she checked the entire room and its sectioned off chambers.

_She was alone._

Discarding her shift, she selected a bath in the furthest corner from the entrance. An array of products lined the tiled lip: several glass bottles, colorful cakes of soap, small tinctures, and a fluffy towel. She tested one of the bottles, pouring a thick milky substance in her hand. It smelled wonderful, like baked sweets, so she dumped a generous amount in her bath. It clouded the pool significantly, offering somewhat of a veil over her naked body, and when she waved her arms, it bubbled and frothed along the surface. The tinctures contained scented oils. One had a delicate smell, like roses. The other was strong and sharp, more medicinal than floral. 

She put them aside, grabbed a soap cake, and began to scrub herself clean.


	4. The Blood of a King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dyad vampires because i said so. I'm sorry this chapter is so lengthy. There's a bit of back story and political intrigue, but also sauciness because i cant fucking help myself.

Rey moved to another bath afterward, wanting to soak further but not in her leftover grime.   
  
Like before, she emptied the milk-soap, then sank beneath the fragrant surface and soaked. She drifted in and out, listening to the gentle trickles all around her. When her stomach growled queerly, she wondered if the older man would return for her and take her back to her cell or if anyone would return at all. Another sound rumbled out of her.   
  
Granted, this was nothing new. No matter how much food she wolfed down, her body remained thin and reedy, and the sharp pangs of a hollow stomach haunted her for as long as she could remember. It was almost embarrassing how much food Rey could put away without consequence, and it was this very hunger that sent her northward, hoping to seek employment under the new king.   
  
Although many felt particular prejudice towards the usurper, the quarters were sturdy, the thatched roofs sound, and the dry storages were well stocked with plenty of victuals. In short, they were taken care of. The new monarch had gutted the late king and queen's council, in a figurative and literal sense. From the very top to the lowest worker, he'd replaced them all. While they were servants, they were not starving, even if Rey appeared that way. It made no difference in her diet. Imogen and Rose filled out in their chest and hips, their dimpled cheeks warm and ruddy, yet Rey―  
  
Another sharp gurgle interrupted her thought.  
  
Standing, she reached for the towel, opting to search for food in this opulent castle herself―but in waltzed the King.  
  
Rey dropped down immediately, wishing she had poured the entire bottle this time instead of a just generous portion. Still dressed in his proverbial dark garb, he paused between a set of pillars with one foot mounted on a step and rubbed the leaves of a tall frond gently before lifting his eyes. Rey sank even further until half her face was submerged―and stared.   
  
It had to be sweltering for him. Even she was sweating, and she was entirely naked. So why come in here? Was she taking too long?  
  
Why did he even care?

He slowly removed his gloves, dropping them onto the warm tiles before moving for the buttons of his dark tunic.  
  
Rey spun around the moment she saw his pale chest. She glanced wide-eyed at the folded towel, the wet, tiled lip she was prepared to vault over. She noted the puddles of water along the floor and that the only escape the bathroom house provided was on the other side of the room, passed the King.  
  
But as she prepared to make her grand escape, she spared a glance over her shoulder and nearly shrieked.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed as the King settled himself comfortably within _her_ pool instead of the plenty available.

He splashed his face before running his hands through his thick hair, "I'm bathing."  
  
A separate heat began to creep up her neck.

She hated this. She hated how his dark hair curled around his fingers, how the locks shined, and the steam flushed his pale skin, how it all demanded to be noticed and admired. He was so close...

_And so naked..._

"There are other baths," she said tightly, her anger slipping with each pass of her eyes.  
  
He grabbed a soap cake, wet it, then lathered his hands, arms, and neck. Rey tracked every motion, felt her mouth go dry.  
  
 _She hated this!_  
  
"What makes you think I want to bathe with you?" she snapped, flustered but refusing to allow his silence to deter her.   
  
"You did everything else with me," he said coolly.  
  
Rey flexed her jaw to keep it from dropping. Even as she scrambled for one, she had no rebuttal, and her ire was being dismantled and replaced with something dark and dangerous. That haunting need was stirring awake, and the King knew it, _encouraged it_. 

_It was just a dream, and she_ thought to say. But was it? That little scratch on his pectoral suggested otherwise. The fact that he'd somehow sniffed her out before she even breached the castle to do the deed did as well.

Perhaps she had done this to herself. There was only one person who knew of the endeavor―and Rey's involvement at that―and so she settled on the built-in benches along the pool walls and decided to play nice.

He was the King, after all.  
  
"Do you want to know why you're here?" he asked softly, rinsing off the soap. 

She cleared her throat, distrusting the sound of her voice. "You think I'm a traitor."

"In more than one way, yes," he stretched out his arms to rest of the pool lip, her eyes tracing the carved muscles of his shoulders before she caught herself and looked away. This was so difficult. Being so close, knowing he was naked, feeling every nerve-ending stretch and strain to touch him. Her blood was practically humming.

Rey swallowed thickly, "I'd like to explain myself."

"Please do."

And so she began.

Starting with her earliest memory as a child. Rey had been raised in a brothel. Though, she wasn't a product of these carnal transactions but rather a child abandoned and left to the elements if her adoptive mother hadn't stepped out one night and heard the cries. Life was normal, established for what it was. Though over the horizon, a war was brewing, and most suddenly. Rising from the southern continents, an empire was on the march. The northern kingdoms defended their homes, but the stint was brief and humiliating. One by one, they fell.

As Rey grew, so did her appetite. But the empire was now on their doorsteps. Food was scarce, and in turn, Rey grew sick. She could hardly step out into the sun.

Now the empire was upon them. The army blew through, hardly stopping their razing before moving ever-northward, claiming king after king, queen after queen.

And then it was over; the war was finished as quickly as it began. Many perished, including Rey's mother, leaving the orphans of war to fend for themselves.

"You amassed an army and leveled the continent with your might," she met the King's eyes finally, "but rather than fight, I came here. I was copperless, without a home. But the closer I got to your kingdom, the sharper my hunger grew until I began to dream terrible things. I watched myself tear open the throats of my friends and bathe in their gruesome deaths. I was so frightened. I forwent sleep many times if it meant Imogen and Rose lived another day.

"It felt as if something had possessed me. You hear it all the time, demons consummating during the darkest hour of the night. Or worse, I'd awoken something that had been there all along."

At last, Rey thought she had found some answers.

Untouched by the war-torn world around them, operating out of spite even, she'd discovered a church, and there, she'd confessed.

"The priest told me the usurper king had cursed the land. He claimed in your wake and touch, you left sickness, decay, and desolation, but there was a way to cleanse the land: I was to slay you." Rey wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. At the time, it had made sense. Now, judging by the look the king was giving her, she wasn't so sure. "What I also don't understand is why are you here, allowing me to bathe in _Your Royal Presence_ instead of marching me to the gallows?"

He considered this, mulling over her little story of plight and perseverance. She knew it was unremarkable compared to his campaign of conquering and rule, but it was hers, and it was all she had at this point.

A moment passed before he spoke.

"My reign was long overdue." His voice was cold and distant and held no warmth a conquering man would. "When I rose, it was not for power or territory. I was a prince forced to pick up a bloodied crown and don it. The Kings and Queens of the Northern Kingdoms banded together and destroyed my home, and tore my family from their very beds. I, too, lost my parents. I reacted as you did and sought to reclaim what I once had, whether by force or absolution. I was tired of playing by mortal rules, bending the knee to mortal reign, and obeying flimsy, _fickle_ mortal laws. I was so much more, and yet my family believed man would allow us to live out our days, alone and unmolested."

Rey grew still. 

The soap had deluded over time, revealing a very tall and powerful king beneath the opaque surface. His long legs stretched out, and she could make out the swell of his calves, his knees, and the chords of muscle that made up his quads. She tried not to lift her eyes any further and instead imagined him dressed for war in his signature black and crimson. Embers drifting against a blackened sky over scorched earth, soot, and blood marring his armor, his inky hair mussed with sweat and dirt. As handsome as he was dreadful.

She thought of the three factions of guards. Perhaps not factions at all, but other royal families or what was left of them. 

"When my parents were cut down whilst they slept, _Man_ had opened the gate of hell themselves. _I_ _never_ _wanted to be king._ "

He leaned forward, "And as for _you,_ daughter of the night, I fathom your true mother coupled with a male from my court. Perhaps she knew what he was and abandoned you after birth, perhaps she didn't, and the delivery claimed her life. Vampire children are so rare. I can't imagine a father neglecting his child if he had any knowledge of her. Family is paramount to us, and _that_ is why you are still alive."

_You have no idea what you are... do you?_

"Then tell me," she whispered. "What am I?"

"Beautiful," the King breathed, not missing a beat. "Different―like me."

She brushed her fingertips against her lips absently, thinking of the ways her parents met, praying it was something worth remembering and not stolen or unrequited. The gnawing hunger, the sleepless nights, all the terrors she conjured with her mind. _Sired,_ not made. 

"Had you been properly raised by your own kind, these things would have been known to you. You are changing. Your body is undergoing a rapid transition that can and will kill you if you're not prepared."

"Am I ..." she couldn't say it, especially when the bathhouse began to blur and a knot lodged in her throat. 

"Yes, but only half."

"But if I'm half..." she swallowed, feeling like she might puke. "If I'm only half, why can't it stay that way?"

"A caterpillar will always yearn to be a butterfly. It can't explain it. It simply answers the call when the time is right. You're maturing, rather belatedly, mind you."

The hunger was building to something. Her body was trying to prepare her for the change. No wonder Imogen and Rose filled out like proper women while Rey stayed small. She was stunting herself. 

Rey took in the room and the King's unorthodox approach.

"You chose the bathhouse because you want to feed me," the air seemed to leave her lungs, and fright kept her very still. "You picked this place because the clean up would be easy."

 _He wants to keep this a secret,_ she realized. Was the court _unaware_ of their king? 

"I did," he slid off the bench towards her, like a shark gliding through water. When he reached for her, she allowed it, and he pulled her close. "Let me help you..."

"Will it hurt?"

His brown eyes searched her face. "It will be many things, but you won't be alone. I'll feel it, too."

Rey lowered her gaze, settling on his mouth, and wondered if his teeth were already setting like hers. "When do we start?"

"Right now, if you wish. I'm at your disposal."

"I hate this," she breathed, even though that was not exactly true. He seemed to know so much about what ailed her; it was easy to believe him.

 _Hungry... So horribly hungry._

"Do you?" 

She felt his warm breath, the delicate brush of his nose before he pressed his lips to her throat.

Somewhere deep inside, she wanted this more than anything before. Her body leaned into him. As if lead by instinct, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, giving him full access to her neck, where he pressed a hot tongue against her pulse and licked slowly. When his hand reached between them, she trembled; she couldn't help it. Though his fingers were gentle, parting her the folds of her sex with the barest of caress, it was enough to set her aflame. She arched her back, lifting her breast out of the water to press against his chest, demanding to be touched further.

A large arm snaked around her back, and a warm mouth closed around her nipple. The pool whirled around, sloshing the water until the King was seated, and Rey now straddled his lap. 

This was dangerous; there was no denying that, but it was also delicious and demanding, _and fuck_ , she wanted more.

Her blood was rushing now, pounding, pounding, _pounding_ to _get out._ By need and desire, her inhibitions were cast aside; a newfound hunger Rey could finally release with reckless abandon. She seized the King's face in her hands, claiming his mouth in a harsh kiss. He met her with equal fervor, wrapping his arms around her. She flicked the tips of his sharp teeth with her tongue, knowing how sensitive they were, and moaned, "I don't even know your name."  
  
"Kylo," he hissed between kisses, struggling with his self-control.   
  
She swallowed the sound, carding her fingers through his dark hair to gather into her fist. Her tongue delved, sweeping across something heady and so profound, Rey wrenched away with a gasp.  
  
She had nicked him with a sharp tooth, and now a little trickle of blood bloomed over his bottom lip.

"It's okay," he assured, "You can be rough."

Rey was stuck. Between being thrown in the jail and now fondled by the king in his bathhouse, confusion pinned her. That harsh red against his pale flesh was startling. Perhaps she needed to be more careful.

"You won't hurt me."

Rey considered herself convinced. She crawled back into his lap, wrapping her legs around him, weightlessly and capturing him in another fierce kiss. She felt him against her belly, a heavy and hardened length branding her skin. If she lifted her hips, aided with a slight adjustment of his own, he would be inside her. She wanted that. She wanted it all.

A dark instinct within her knew where she could get the most out of her bite. This wasn't enough; her thoughts cried. She needed more. 

And so, breaking away, she gripped him by his inky locks and buried her teeth into his neck. 

It was like biting into a ripe peach. Rey trembled, digging her nails into his back as she held on while blood flooded into her mouth. He was so sweet and warm _and moaning,_ and Rey pulled with greedy, clumsy gulps while he gripped her slender hips and ground her into his lap.

Then it came. Whatever it was, Rey felt it creeping towards her, a black madness, an all-consuming animal confusion. It was a sharp edge of pain and hunger finally dulled, but even then, it continued and turned into something much worse.

Her vision winked out, and a horrific stabbing rose and twisted through her.

Rey tried to push past it, but she could hardly breathe and pulled away just to double over.

It had been hell not to have him, but hell kept coming, kept building. She curled over herself, shaking and gritting her teeth to staunch the rising scream from escaping her throat.

" _Rey..."_

The pain was now a living thing with teeth she could _feel_ chewing her muscles and splintering her bones. There was throbbing ache between her legs, a hammering blow against her skull, and something _alive,_ and it was carving her up from the inside. She couldn't control herself, not her mouth, not her hands, not anything. She pushed, falling back into the water, but Kylo gathered her against him once more. She was back in his lap naked, needy, and delusional, but she could only see glimpses of the night sky captured in strokes of indigo and the deepest blues while she remained at the mercy of this undoing.

For that was all this could be. His blood was the medium to find this end and begin anew—the King's blood, none other. 

Another black fog covered her eyes, then receded like a tide. With each wash brought a fresh wave of agony, Rey wished she never knew.

* * *

At length, the spasms withered into tiny, insignificant flames of pain. When her coherence returned, she found herself draped against Kylo. The small puncture marks from her bite still bled. Scratches from her nails marked his shoulder and chest where she'd tried clawing her way up to him.

"I'm sorry," she croaked. Had she been screaming?

"We're not done, Rey."

She swallowed, lifting her head.

Her lips felt bruised, as did much of her body. It felt different, too, like the satisfying cracks and rush of blood from a long-deserved stretch. Everything up to a point had been mindless heed. Her body knew what it wanted, but she did not, and there was still a desire to fill _him_ with _her._

Kylo appeared dazed, sallow even. There were shadows beneath his strained eyes as if she'd taken too much. She likely did. Not only that, but there was a certain awareness within herself that knew every lance of pain, every throe of agony, was shared with him. 

Rey ran her fingers over his bottom lip, admiring their fullness and the peek of teeth. She placed a finger in her mouth, puncturing the pad with her sharp tooth, then slipped the bleeding tip into Kylo's mouth. 

He wrapped his lips around it and sucked, and the sensation was felt more between her legs than the wound itself.

She pressed against him, watching him pull at her finger as she rose on her knees. He knew what she wanted. Whether he tasted it or saw it in her face, he gathered her up and spread his thighs to accommodate her.

When she felt his tip brush her entrance, she moved slowly, easing down. Her body resisted quietly, the stretching and yielding so insignificant to the prior torture until she was fully seated and utterly filled. 

Rey loosed a breath, her attention ricocheting between the hot mouth sucking her finger and the thick cocked buried inside her. It was enough to make her come, but first, she wanted as much of her in him as possible. She couldn't understand this primordial will, only that it would bring her great satisfaction.

"I want you inside of me," she whispered, watching his tongue flick the tip of her finger. "And I want to be inside of _you._ "

His hands wrapped around her hips, guiding her up and down his shaft, weightless in the water. She felt every inch, relishing the friction and the surging thrusts.

Rey draped her arms around his shoulders and decorated her hips with swirls, sinking low into his lap. He ran a palm up her chest, cupping her neck to kiss her, but he ended the kiss so _slowly_ , Rey's core squeezed, pulling a hiss through his teeth.

Anticipation vibrated her blood.

His mouth found her neck, a hand kneaded her breast gently, pinching at a pert nipple.

" _Please,"_ she whined, closing her eyes under the onslaught of sensations.

Kylo's teeth sank into her, mirroring the same tender slowness as their coupling. 

Rey didn't mean to come apart so suddenly, _so violently_. 

Her riven gasp was cut short as the orgasm shattered through her. Kylo kept pulling, winding Rey up so tightly, the pleasure was blinding, and her breath caught in her throat.

Instinct overruled inexperience, and she found her sense of self again, her hips already working his length to milk her orgasm to its last drop.

 _Yet he kept sucking_ , and the little black death that claimed her was not done with her.

Rey was lost. 

That little spark of dark light swallowed her up again, and she fell into oblivion, crying out a second time, shattering into thousands of pieces once more.

His arms tightened around her like a vise, his hips finding a rhythm amidst hers, and then he pulled her down, plunging as deep as he could go as he found his own little black end.

Rey's core cinched, gripping the king's cock like a fist as he emptied himself inside her. Seconds passed, then minutes. The lovers, still wrapped around each other, were too sated and sensitive to move. Kylo's embrace loosened, allowing Rey to sag against him. 

The trickles and wafts of hissing steam of the bathhouse came back to focus. The water was redder than before. She was still hungry, so she knew this ordeal was far from over. Was this a glimpse at the incoming days? That made her nervous.

As it was, she felt _incredibly_ sated, and her belly was full for once in her life.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, then another, _"Thank you."_

And to think, this entire time, she had thought to be cursed.


	5. The Last Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tdet, Ammurun, and Gharasham were -lovingly- borrowed from the witcher-verse. They are vampire tribes but I made them into Houses instead however, they are not mine. Orianna, Dettlaff, and Regis also belong to that realm.
> 
> Dedicated to Lady Rhi's sharp, nerdy eyes.

The following evening, she awoke to the pleasant sensation of Kylo's fingers gliding up her calf. The room was too dark to see, a blessing as it was a curse, but it was the King's chamber, after all.

He pressed his lips against her throat, his hand continuing to explore her thighs' sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft moan. With each delicate pass of his fingers, more little noises escaped her until she spread her thighs beneath the silken sheets, encouraging him to touch her and find her naked, warm, _and ready._

He gripped her bare thigh, then stepped away, taking that deft hand with him. 

"Done with your kingly duties?" she asked.

"Not quite," he said huskily.

Rey listened to the crumple of a cloak collapsing on the floor, then watched him climb into bed. 

He pulled her close, kissing her mouth and jawline, murmuring his surprise to feel her bare.

Feeling particularly aroused, Rey arched into him, running her fingers through his dark curls while she encouraged him with her body. 

His mouth closed around her nipple, plucking the bud with his lips then flicking it with his tongue. He kneaded her other breast, alternating between gentle massaging and rubbing the pert nipple between thumb and forefinger until Rey's body blazed hot. Though she was aware of the pleasant assault against her chest, the sensations were a phantom caress at her cunt. 

She hitched a leg across his lap, making her desires known, and captured him in another fierce kiss. 

He made a throaty sound she thoroughly liked, but when her hands lowered to his trousers where his own desire could be readily seen, he caught her wrists.

"Rey," he pulled her down against his chest to kiss her. "I would want nothing more than to have you in _every way_ , but you must feed. If you're not strong enough, you won't survive the Change."

Between the heavy throb between thighs and her mouth, she couldn't argue. She felt fine; she felt _more_ than fine, having a dreamless sleep so quiet and deep, it took being physically touched to rouse her.

Kylo sat up, adjusting her against his lap until they were both comfortable, and unbuttoned the high collar of his blouse. 

Rey came forward, pretending to lean into his neck, only to steal another heated kiss. She nipped him this time, as gently as she could, then suckled and licked messily amidst their kissing.

In spite of himself, Kylo moaned, his hands coming down on her hips to grind her against him. 

_Yes,_ she knew he would like that.

But now her desire was an inferno beneath her skin, and this time, she trailed kisses across his sharp jawline, licked the site where she wished to plunge into, then sank her teeth.

He gripped her hips so tight, the strength surprised her, and stoked her heat.

Rey pulled slowly, passing her tongue over the puncture marks carefully, stroking him as she ground against his lap.

No, the king couldn't resist any longer. 

A hand from around her waist vanished and the trousers were torn open. Rey was with him, lifting herself and tilting her hips as he nudged her entrance.

They fell still as she sank slowly until he was fully seated in her slick heat.

Rey gave the wound a hard pull, imaging the sensation similar to her nipples and her sex.

She was right.

Kylo hissed, pulling at her even after their hips met. 

Rey tipped her head back, releasing her bite and feeling somewhat drunk. She rode him; her hands dug and clawed at him, trying to take him deeper, and then that little dark light swept up and claimed her like a slap. She came hard, tossing and bucking and driving herself down on him with abandon even as he gasped hugely and spent himself inside her.

* * *

For several long moments, they stayed this way, kissing and relishing in their post-coitus bliss. Rey carded her fingers through his thick hair, marveling the softness...marveling _everything._ Her chest was tight with it. She had never felt such fullness, and perhaps, foolishness. Wasn't she still nothing? A nobody? What of the Change? What will Kylo do with her after she forms into her new self?

Rey couldn't find herself to care. _She had this._ This was far from nothing, even if it was only temporary. 

Kylo lifted his head, the ends of his dark curls tickling her skin, his large hands stroking her naked back and rear, giving the flesh an appreciative squeeze.

She opened her heavy eyes, and he drew back as if to search her face. His mouth was colored in lip prints of his own blood, making him as equally ravaged as he was beautiful. 

Her chest tightened again.

"I want to show you where it started," he said softly, " _Wh_ _y_ it started." 

She thought she knew the gist of it: his parents were slaughtered, effectively dismantling the vampiric rule in a single night. Thus, it was up to him, the last prince, to restore what was lost.

"Of course," she touched his face, noting the gleam in his troubled eyes. 

What else could he possibly wish to show her? 

* * *

Dressed warmly, Rey followed in the wake of her King's shadow with a heavy cloak flaring at her heels. Four guards flanked them, a small throng of protection for the journey.

She noticed two sported a dusty blue aglet wrapped around their left shoulders, another wore a rusted gold braid, and the last was the color of a storm cloud. These were the only difference in their otherwise neatly trimmed, solid black uniforms and asymmetrical half-cloaks.

She also noticed each sigil pinned to their lapels, and that curiosity was piqued again.

When they entered the stables, Kylo and three of the guards readied the horses. At the same time, the knight with the grey aglet―a grizzled man with a noble aquiline nose―remained beside her; his sigil was the opened palm with the slits.

"What does that mean?" Rey asked, indicating with what she hoped was courtly intrigue. 

He touched the pin with reverence, a subtle smile tugging the corner of his mouth as he said in a rich and mellifluous voice. "My guild, the Gharasham."

He pulled the brooch off and handed it to her. Heavy and warm from his body heat. She flipped it over several times in her hand, admiring the craftsmanship. The background was colored in the same grey as the aglet.

 _Gharasham_ , she tasted the word mutely.

"Do each of you belong to a guild?" she asked, handing the brooch back.

"Yes: The Ammurun, the House of Magic; the Tdet, the House of War; and Gharasham, House of Knowledge."

She glanced at Kylo luring a buckskin from its stall, nearly as tall as the horse. 

"Forgive my ignorance, " Rey went on, "But which house does the King belong?"

"As our king, he represents all three," he clarified, "His mother came from Gharasham; his father was an errant soul, and of no noble birth, but in the end, he made a fine leader."

Knowledge, War, and Magic. The first two surely sounded correct, but the last?

"Is...magic real?"

"As you and I," the guard spoke sadly.

Had her ignorance disappointed him? Undoubtedly, but despite this, she was fascinated.

If vampires could exist, so could magic. Is this what Kylo wished to show her?

"I'm Rey."

"Regis," he offered a slight bow before looking simultaneously at the King, "It's a great relief to see him finally mated. Perhaps now he'll send us all home, instead of sacking another city."

* * *

The guard with the golden aglet tore a hole into the air with his very hands. The air buckled and a black roaring maw yawned wide enough to pass horses through, and when they emerged on the other side, the wintry foothills of a jagged mountain range awaited them.

But that was the least shocking thing to Rey.

Vampires existed; magic existed, and now teleportation existed...

And yet―

_Mated._

Such a simple word, short and straight to the point, but it sunk into the pit of her stomach like lead.

Surely Regis met something different? 

Right?

Was it _that_ specific word that carried more weight otherwise? 

It seemed the knights were behaving differently around her as well. Their hawkish looks had softened. There were smiles and warm greetings this time instead of cold silence and disregard. 

Perhaps she was overthinking.

Yes, that was what she was doing.

_Overthinking._

* * *

Rey anticipated a dark terror made of mortar and stone but the king of a vampire legion's keep appeared to be like any other found across the continent, with bastions positioned between the steep mountain passes, fortified bridges over thrashing rivers, and watchtowers in the far-flung reaches. 

It was as beautiful and overwhelming as its king. Banners of gold, blue, and grey snapped in the brisk mountain wind, united beneath a black crown made of stars, not the dripping red it imposed now. Rey understood the symbolism and her heart ached for not just Kylo, but the guilds as well. To live in exile, more or less, then fed a false promise by human hands, only to be betrayed. 

Yes, anger was a natural response. It explained why he swapped out the previous workers and replaced them with his own. To rid the palace of late king and queen sympathizers was one less worry, one less attempt at a second assassination, their last prince. It made sense now how adamant he wished to root Rey out. _First the human betrayal, now a half-breed._ One of his own out it hurt him, surely _._ How she managed to avoid an untimely demise was certainly due to her ignorance of the matter.

She thought of the priest for the first time, a pang of guilt thrumming her heart. He was likely dead.

_One less worry now._

As the convoy followed the mountain's switchback, a massive shadow dampened the already muted sunshine. 

Rey lifted her head just as it stooped low and a sudden gust pushed her askew in her saddle. She caught a glimpse of talons as long as her forearm, a massive wingspan tuft with fur, and horns before it rose back up to be swallowed in the dark overcast.

A few horses pranced from fright, some reared, but the majority trotted on. 

Rey tossed a wide-eyed look to Regis.

"Wyverns," was all he said.

* * *

As the rattling gates opened to the vast kingdom, Rey knew the presence, let alone _the existence_ of wyverns, would be the least of her worries. 

A woman approached from the right, or what Rey _thought_ was a woman if not for the ram horns curling from her glossy black hair or the long and hirsute _goat legs_ providing her lower half. She could have easily been the most beautiful female Rey had ever seen if indeed not the most startling.

She took Rey's hand from the reins and kissed it, before backing away so lithe and surefooted, or... sure _hooved?_

The strangeness did not stop there. 

There were men half Rey's height with thick, bushy beards and soot staining their ruddy cheeks. They looked just like the smithies, except... significantly shorter with beer bellies and more mirth than their little bodies could hold. A man and a woman with pointed ears leaned over the railing, waving their hands in greeting. Humans, as well, or what they appeared to be. Rey could only guess what uniqueness kept them within these walls.

So much merriment for the king, all stepping out of their dwellings to greet the small convoy. Suddenly Rey wasn't so sure about her attire. It seemed too... _intentional._ Accents of red popped in sweeping, shimmering layers of black. Even the steel tips of her black riding boots were glossy crimson and she wondered if this wasn't a hidden statement.

_Mate._

She shivered as the castle spires and balustrades in the backdrop crept closer.

Rey glanced back at Regis in time to see a very tanned and scantily-clad woman approach him. He drew his mule up short, allowing her to stick a barefoot in his stirrup and hoist herself into his lap. She looked human, were it not the bald tail lashing from her lower back and the black, fluted horns jutting from hair as white as the moon.

At odds with the small celebration, the King rode on, looking as if he were attending his own funeral. 

* * *

After they reached the keep, like a long-held sigh, the lingering storm finally released. 

As the rain poured, Rey was introduced to a vast number of people, which made the time go by quickly. Though, it was impossible to retain even half of their names. There were _sorcerers, and sorceresses,_ elves, dwarves, and halflings. _More_ vampires and even an echelon within their ranks, from the sentient to beastly bipedal bats stalking the wilderness. 

It was so much, and it was all at once. Yet it still felt like just the surface of a deep and unfathomable measure of understanding.

Somehow it had always been known there was another kingdom sequestered in the south. Still, it was never mentioned it was of _this_ magnitude.

If she could read, she would have blamed the tomes that lacked information. If she had attended school, she would have condemned the utter neglect, or rather _avoidance_ , of the subject matter.

Mankind did not want to lose their stronghold on the world all the same. They abhorred the different and strange, the exotic, and the rare; she realized that now.

She thought of the priest again.

Yes, he was undoubtedly dead now, and instead of guilt, she found relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> indeed, i extended it by another chapter because the cliffhanger startled even me, I care too much about closure.


	6. The King's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is introduced to prominent figures within Kylo's court. One individual plants a seed of doubt in her mind, spelling immediate trouble.

The war that had brought these two worlds into a head-on collision, was so much more than avenging the murder of Kylo's parents. He had avenged the succubus that kissed Rey's hand, the elf couples that placed a crown of flowers on her head; the halflings, and the dwarves, and he did it with a sense of self-immolation. He tore the kingdoms and fiefdoms apart, fully prepared to die if it meant the world finally _acknowledged,_ that it wasn't _weakness_ that kept them at bay, but the staying of their own hand. 

Rey had half-expected Kylo wanted to show her the terrible place his family had been cut down, but that wasn't it. This was his home and this was what he wanted to show her.

 _"Do you know want to know why I must continue this campaign?"_ he'd asked between stolen moments, " _Because of all the creatures you've seen today, Higher Vampires stand at the apex of it all; if we cannot protect ourselves, how are we to protect others?"_

He'd taken her hand and kissed her fingers thoughtfully. He hated to be this person, hated how they painted him as a tyrant. _Painted them all._ But if that was what it took to protect what was left of his kingdom, so be it. He would be that monster they wanted him to be.

Such as it was, Rey sat with only the sounds of the muffled pattering rainfall, left there to mull over all she had learned in so little time. Droves and droves of court members came and went, airing their grievances into the king's ear until he, too, was whisked away for further discretion elsewhere. 

Outside, the storm continued to roar and fall in sheets while the dining hall was as quiet as a grave. The particular table she sat at was close to the dais, where the royal family had once feasted and was heavily scarred from use. All that remained were Kylo and the men and women who rallied beneath his bloody crown, setting march for the Northern Kingdoms. Who knew what numbers were lost within that campaign?

She couldn't blame them, she thought. Losing her mother was a grief so black, it turned into anger and if Rey had a modicum of Kylo's might, she would have called down the stars with her roar that day. She wondered about the lives that would fall after. She knew months had passed since the first drop of blood that would eventually soak the fields, presuming this war was far from over. Now among citizens she _should_ consider as her kind, it didn't stop her from wondering: where did she stand? And why couldn't the humans just leave off?

Time stretched, and stretched, and would not break. 

She felt displaced and somewhat cast aside, or perhaps on the brink of waking from a long, feverish dream where creatures and monsters existed, but instead of the fur-tufted, winged, and horned beasts, they were humans. 

They were humans all along.

* * *

It took several moments to realize she was no longer alone.

Regis and two flanking guards waited between a pillar for her to notice. As soon as they met eyes, they crossed the quiet dining hall.

"How are you fairing?" he asked, taking the bench across from her. "What do you think of our home?"

The other guards―a prim, redheaded female, and a darker-haired, brooding male―took their seats on either side.

"It's beautiful," Rey said sincerely. "There's so much to see. It's almost..." she trailed off, noticing how bluntly the two unnamed vampires eyed her.

"These are my colleagues, Orianna, and Dettlaff. " Regis introduced, black eyes scanning the vast room. "We were hoping to find you in the presence of the king, but alas, he eludes us still."

"But since _you're_ here, and will likely find him before we do," Orianna interjected wryly, "We would like to pass on a message."

Rey blinked. Was she the right person for this?

"A smattering of rebels have made themselves known," the female sighed contemptuously. "As expected, what's left of them have taken up arms which would have all been preventable had we scourged every last one of them. Purged them, as they wished to purge us."

 _"However_ ," Regis hemmed. " _That_ was not what our lord ordered. We were to hunt down and remove all conspirators responsible for the late king and queen's demise. Nothing more, nothing less."

Rey got the impression this wasn't a manner of importance nor a message she needed to pass on, but a lingering and well-cemented disagreement between the two.

The conversation continued in this fashion, a back-and-forth of Orianna insulting the human race control nor etiquette withholding, and Regis smoothing her contempt with balming words and excuses. Dettlaff said nothing at all.

At last, a tense stretch of silence encompassed them.

Orianna inspected her sharp nails and said nothing for a brief moment, then she met Rey's curious gaze.

"They should all be culled," Orianna growled lowly. "In the end, we are faster, stronger― _unnatural,_ if you will. Let them come."

Between the three, Rey quickly decided Orianna was the deadliest. A wildfire, befitting the auburn hair coiffed around her pale face. This must have been easily read across Rey's expression, for when the rebel discussion finally died, the female vampire touched Regis' arm and said, "Leave us. I wished to have a moment with our newest court member, Lady Rey."

The grizzled vampire gave a hesitated glance at Rey, before standing. Dettlaff followed suit, and they both left the dining hall as quietly as they came. 

Orianna waited until the door clunked shut before she barked, "Stand up."

"Pardon?" 

The female sucked her teeth, rising fluidly from her bench. " _Stand._ "

Rey mechanically rose as Orianna came around the table to her side. She took her by the hand, inspecting her nails and fingers, the bend and flex of her wrist and elbow, before prodding at her shoulders.

"So thin and bony," the vampire purred, "Have you not been feeding?"

"Y-yes, once," Rey said tightly.

She felt the vampire's hands gliding down her flanks, then grip the narrow swell of her hips, before following the curve of her buttocks beneath her skirts.

Rey jerked but Orianna's reflexes were fast to hold her in place.

"Relax," she purred again, the report sending a wave of warmth through her muscles, effectively loosening her rigid discomfiture. 

Orianna stepped around, sliding her hand around Rey's waist with a mixed expression, her lips twisted in the familiar contempt. "How old are you?"

"Barely twenty," Rey tried to read past the cold regard but there wasn't much behind it other than more disgust.

Orianna slid her palms up Rey's rib cage then cupped the small mounds of her breasts. Whatever trance fell over Rey vanished. Her arms snapped out, shoving Orianna back with surprising force.

The vampire started, her brown eyes wide with shock, then, like a shadow, a wicked smirk curled her glossy lips once more.

"Forgive me," she placated in an attempt that suggested she wasn't offended, "if I seem rather _incredulous_. I just find it ironic how our Lord began this war _against_ the humans, only to return with a pet one in tow." She stepped back, lowering herself on the scarred bench, thus concluding her obscene inspection. "I am curious about how it happened. This―" her features twisted again, " _courtship."_

 _"_ You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Rey muttered.

Orianna considered this and found it either not worthy of her time or consigned the matter trivial.

"Whispers amidst the court say our king was untouched," Orianna bit her lip, surely imagining him, then her expression soured the slightest when she looked at Rey. "I fathom that has changed. He is so... _taciturn_ now. Ever since the slaying of the royal family, he's expressed a type of anger I could only hope to channel in the bedroom. Is he fierce? Does our Lord claw and howl when he takes you?"

Rey cleared her throat, "He's actually gentle with me."

"Oh? Perhaps the reason is you're still _just_ a human and he doesn't wish to thrash you. Were he with a woman of his kind, it would be different."

"Perhaps," Rey clipped. "I'm sure when my Change happens, he'll be more than willing to explore such antics with me. He's already showed me so much."

"Change? What do you know about such matters?"

Rey swallowed, clearing her throat again. "I'm a half-breed."

The sudden burst of laughter that erupted from the vampire's lips started Rey enough she stepped back.

"Says who?" she gasped, reigning in her mirth. "The king?"

"Yes, actually."

Orianna decided to switch to a different discussion. One that didn't remind her that Rey was the one being warmed in the king's bed and the switch in emotions was as succinct as it was troubling.

"If that's the case, whether you're prepared or otherwise, this court is no different than the humans." Orianna went on. "There is cattiness, gossip, and intrigue, the whole gamut.I hazard many of these patrons within our realm will branch out and wreak havoc and hysteria. I suggest you make your Change soon. Now that the war is upon us, Humans have no place here, not anymore. Like gnats, you buzz about our heads incessantly until," Orianna slapped her hand on the table, causing Rey to flinch. "We grow annoyed by the sound."

_A caterpillar will always yearn to be a butterfly._

He'd made it seem gradual, actually, and only when her body was ready would the time come.

"Kylo never told me I had control over it." 

"Some do," Orianna's smiled darkly. "Others fall upon them abruptly and without warning. I recommend exploring within yourself, find which of these applies to you. I must admit something, little insect. Many well-bred ladies of his court vie for his attention. _Powerful, regal_ vampire women. And you, _a human_ of all things, occupy the space many were reared for. They feel disregarded, insulted even, especially during these sensitive hours."

Rey considered, each second passing her thoughts arranged and rearranged, then she said regretfully, "What do _you_ suggest?" 

That same wicked gleam curled her lips. Regret now a cold lump in her stomach.

"Reach inside yourself and _pull it out,_ " Orianna emphasized each word. "Show us, Rey, that you are a vampire and _not_ a gnat."

* * *

When Orianna left, Rey took a different exit; one she found in the rear of the dining hall that connected to the kitchen. While she admired the redhead in many ways, she was still somewhat intimidated. There was a grace about Orianna she liked, but beneath her flawless skin and bright brown eyes, lurked something predatory.

It went without saying the plight and peril their court endured was unfortunate. Still, she couldn't help comparing her own upbringing to the mystical things that dwelled within these walls, specifically Orianna. Rey began life with nothing, and no one, either left to fend for herself due to unfortunate circumstances or abandoned altogether, the result was the same: she came from nothing.

She could spend hours comparing herself to Orianna, or she could explore her own capabilities and if her mother taught her anything, it was not to victimize herself.

Rey spent several minutes roaming the quiet halls, perhaps once in a full riot before the assassination. She imagined those who once resided in the castle were now enlisted to protect it. Regis, Dettlaff, and Orianna likely walked these corridors in their most elegant attire, attending parties and feasts, now armed with cloaks and daggers, shields and halberds.

She paused at the first door presented, but it was locked, so she moved onto the next.

As far as Rey's family were concerned, what were the chances her father still lived? Perhaps now a guard? And who was to say the birth mother was not also within these walls?

No, something told her. Her mother was gone—either dead from childbirth or dead _to Rey_ for abandoning her.

The next-door opened for Rey, so she slipped inside. 

The darkness was near blinding. She felt around carefully, bumping into furniture, tripping over thick rugs before her fingers finally brushed against a curtain. She drew it open, allowing the soft light of the storm to spill in. Rivulets of rain tracked gnarled paths down the panels and a flash of lightning illuminated the courtyard below, tracing stark shadows against the perched gargoyles. When one of them moved, Rey turned away. 

A small study revealed itself, furnished with a large desk sat in one corner, a grand piano in the other. Shelves upon shelves teeming with books and a propped ladder for higher reach lined the walls. A crystal chandelier hung above, refracting the muted light.

Rey rifled through the drawers for a match to light the candles. Once she did, she took a seat at the desk and reflected.

Orianna's manner of words had piqued Rey. _Some had control._ Then there was her dream, a clear indication she had somehow wormed her way into his mind, for better or for worse, but, as Orianna suggested, it was worth exploring. 

She placed her hands flat on the desk and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

She held it and then released it, repeating this a few more times until she felt relaxed and somewhat clear-minded. She wasn't sure how she was able to bridge their minds or reflect thoughts of her dream into his but she had. _A gift,_ Kylo had claimed. Rey was beginning to think there might be something else at work though he had been referring to her hybrid blood at the time, but what exactly? Just this morning she watched a man tear a hole through the very air. Surely that meant maybe she had something mystical within herself? Something not even their king understood?

She tried to feel with her mind, not just her body, and pushed her senses out. She became hyper-aware of the cushions against her back, the rug beneath her boots. She pushed further, listening to every draft that seeped into the castle, the rain pelting the windows, the shuffling gargoyle hunched in the storm.

When her heartbeat softened to a steady percussion, all other sounds fell away.

A blissful silence encompassed her.

She felt as if she were floating in the quiet of her subconscious. Even the chair she sat in could not be sensed. She was suspended or perhaps sinking, into a pit within herself. Rey drifted down, searching for the bottom of this internal well. It was difficult to gain any bearing when the shadows around her swirled and stretched; dark shapes took form, then rearranged neverendingly.

Rey reached for the desk to steady herself but felt only empty air.

Then the world pitched, and she toppled. Her eyes snapped open just as her feet staggered beneath the unexpected and sudden weight of herself. The abrupt shift within gravity was alarming, but she was standing now, and no longer in the study room.

She turned slowly, trying not to panic and regain her bearing.

Stacks of barrels lined the walls. Some were positioned on their sides, racked and labeled—a wine cellar. 

Rey swallowed, struggling to rein in her stricken confusion. This wasn't exactly what she had in mind but it was something, to be sure.

 _When lost_ , she told herself, _backtrack._

This time she gave herself clear intent by picturing the study room and the same dizzying sensations whorled through her on command. In a medley of wind and shadow, her arms snapped out, attempting to hold on.

This time the floor flew up and hit her, knocking the wind from her lungs. Lightning flashed, illuminating the study room briefly before the shadows fell once more. 

Rey picked herself up, looking over her trembling hands. Her breath came in heavy drafts, and her tongue sat thick and numb in her mouth. She tried swallowing, but her panic had dried up her throat and was still rising.

She hauled herself up, turning towards the window and throwing it open in time to puke. She clung there, half folded over, rain pelting her as she emptied her stomach until she was gasping.

Rey tipped her head back, using the heavy downpour to cool her fevered skin and rinse her mouth.

This was a bad idea, she realized that now. Whatever she had done sapped her dry of any and all vigor. Even standing as she was, practically slumped against the wall, her weakened body still trembled under its own weight. She couldn't feel her tongue still, and if she weren't making the conscious effort, she'd likely vomit again.

"Okay," Rey breathed, soaked through now, and the gargoyle was giving her a peculiar look. It was time to take a seat and never try that again.

She drew the windows closed and glanced over her shoulder.

The desk; she just had to get to it, and she'd be fine.

Rey took a step, and her knees buckled. 

She sprawled across the floor with barely enough strength to catch her fall, and there, she laid in defeat.

 _What have I done?_ she thought but her mental castigation stopped abruptly when a different pain rang through. It twisted and bloomed, spreading into parts of she didn't understand. She could only breathe now, too afraid to move and exacerbate this newfound agony that kept her pinned to the floor. 

Though, these bright slices of hell continued to spread, reaching the ends of her fingertips and her toes, stretching, and stretching, until she feared she was about to split open.

Rey opened her mouth to cry out, but a startling snap stole the sound, and all thought flew out of her mind.

Then another, and she lurched.

And another.

And another...


	7. A Tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, pretending like I could finish this in 7 chapters. PAH. Anyway, onward. (also sorry for the delay, luv u)

"Just west of here," Dettlaff indicated along the map with a claw. "Several of our scouts report various degrees of torture, believing humans are weeding out the nonhuman, perhaps to send _us_ a message."

Kylo listened quietly, strategizing several pieces along the border until the map's spread had regiments on all fronts. 

"Even after I decimated their armies," he said softly, " they still believe there's a fighting chance." And for what? What exactly were they fighting _him_ for? They started this war. This sequestered world had been ceremoniously unleashed. Some of Kylo's soldiers rivaled the height of trees; in other instances, he had _trees themselves_ at his disposal. In short, Kylo didn't necessarily have to leave to fight. He could send out his forces, both sentient nature and otherwise, and wait.

This start of this war had been reflexive: kill who had killed those dearest to him. In truth, he hadn't been close to his parents, but it was the principle of the matter. Now it seemed Kylo couldn't stop, nor did he want to. To what means would he go to ensure such a tragedy did not repeat itself? How long would it take until blood for blood pooled in equal measure?

It was an easy answer: to whatever means, to what end. As a princeling, Kylo barely understood the reason for their walls and their territorial limits. The rules which he grew up under made little sense. If there was a world beyond their borders, why could they not explore it?

_Because of humans._

"Orianna has specifically requested this mission for herself," Dettlaff muttered darkly. "She believes--"

The table started to tremor, toppling the small pieces upon the map and rattling the quills and ink pots. Both males took a step back when it became apparent not just the table quaked but the entire castle. 

Kylo was already out of the door, sprinting down the corridor before Dettlaff could question what was happening.

He turned left and stopped, whirling around with the sensation surrounded him.

"No, no, no..."

He picked a direction and ran, calling out, spinning around several times in confusion. He turned around and around, wide-eyed and panicked. He went for the door lining the corridors, throwing himself against the locked ones in a frenzy and flinging open the ones he could.

He only became aware of Regis and Dettlaff's imploring questions when the hands gripping his shoulder tightened to the point of pain. 

He blinked, absorbing the heavy drafts of air sawing in and out of him.

"My lord?" 

He looked, connecting with the black eyes of his close friend, Regis. 

"What is the matter?"

"It's Rey," he rasped, the admission ratcheting his fear. "She's changing."

His body had gone number with panic at this point, and the surge of adrenaline tickled his sense only faintly. He would tear through these stone walls if he had to.

"I must find her," he breathed, straining every bit of his senses to their breaking point.

* * *

Rey's dreams were cold and filled with pain. Worse, there were no dreams at all, only a distance, cognitive awareness. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head in an ecstasy of suffering. The world rocked. As if sucked from her body, she lay paralyzed along the floor, reduced to forge through this newfound agony in utter silence and solitude. While the bones popped and muscle stretched and readjusted, awake but unable to move, to scream or vent her despair, she lay. It was difficult to form thoughts, to acknowledge any degree of regret when the pain inflicted across her body _demanded_ every ounce of her consciousness. Even still, between lapses of agonizing growth and the Change Kylo had warned her about, she wondered if she were ever ready or if this had been her fate all along.

This was also agony.

Perhaps throughout her youth, her malnourished body had become stunted like a butterfly born with wrinkled wings that never unfurled or learned to fly. Eyes fixed and glazed, Rey barely felt the tears spill over her cheeks as the dark room blurred. She couldn't even blink them away. Minutes, hours, perhaps days had passed; time was irrelevant when seconds stretched on, braided with agony, and laced with blood. 

She heard the door open and then shut, the brush of footsteps across the floor. She smelled... pomegranates and wet metal. 

"Oh, little insect," Orianna's voice drifted over her senses, somehow soothing. "Did you cut yourself out of your cocoon before you were ready?" 

The fragrant blood from the vampire's mouth caused Rey's body to twist inadvertently. Even in these absolute throes of pain, her animal hindbrain was struggling to feed.

With a heavy tongue, foreign and thick, Rey rasped, "You knew."

"Oh, little insect," the red-head went on, crouching low over Rey's supine body like Death Herself. "How stunning you are. Your eyes, as green as a spring meadow, and _your teeth,"_ she gasped in mock admiration. "Truly, you would have made a remarkable vampire, but I fear you would not make a suitable queen." Another spasm wrought through Rey, pricking her eyes with tears. 

Orianna brushed the clinging hairs from Rey's sweat-stricken face lovingly, clearly admiring this slow demise. "You could have been the very thing to unite Man and Monster."

She pushed Rey onto her back and began removing the clothing articles that boasted the king's colors. She stood, slipping off her cloak and vestment and replacing it with Rey's. "It's quite common for unsupervised Changelings to turn on themselves. Starved and suffocating with fear, they lash out and tear themselves to pieces. It's a tragedy, truly."

"But you have nothing to fear, little gnat, Orianna's here to put you out of your misery."

And with that, her face twisted into a visage unrecognizable. Eyes aglow, snouted, and baring too many rows of teeth, Orianna then lengthened her claws drastically, drew her arm back, and swung from Rey's neck.


End file.
